Tuesdays Suck

It’s evident that mornings are plain bad luck for me.

Yesterday, which is to say Tuesday, my morning commute was enlivened by a highway traffic collision. I may have made the traffic helicopter update, but my car radio was stolen nearly a year ago, so I don’t know. What I do know is that for once, it wasn’t my fault. Also, I have to say that I’m not really a fan of the SKREEE-BLAM! noise, nor of the sensation of spinning wildly across the asphalt until you fetch up in the inside shoulder facing the wrong way. It’s an interesting sensation, but not one I recommend.

No one, God be praised, was injured. My own vehicle serves as a testimony to the quality of Chevrolet manufacturing, or possibly just to my luck, since it emerged with just a mussed bumper and some antifreeze residue from the other guy’s car, which was rather more thoroughly impacted. I was, in fact, able to drive on to work as soon as the cops finished asking me questions, and only arrived about half an hour behind schedule.

I was able to keep a moderate tongue in my head throughout the whole proceeding, too. It’s a quirk in my nature that, while the mere anticipation of having to fill out forms makes me tense, actual crises bring about a certain tranquility of mind.

At work, in between routing incoming calls, I found myself regularly slipping into that state of semi-conscious lucid daydreaming that I call the dreamwalk. It is a mental state of utmost relaxation, in which I remain conscious of my surroundings while at the same time being immersed in a fantasy, dreaming and yet able to control the environment of the dream. It is also a state in which the subjective passage of time is slowed. And so did the morning pass, leading inevitably to the afternoon, when I fulfilled my usual duties as usual.

Subsequent to that, I managed to stay fully conscious long enough to get home, and then slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep for four hours, from which I just emerged.